The Carolina Street Bomber
by CharlieCaller
Summary: ~~ Totally Complete ~~ When LA is shaken by a series of bombings, Mark needs to clear his head before he can find out who is behind it, and before someone close to him gets hurt. (Rated for content about bombs.)
1. Making the Mark

The Carolina Street Bomber  
  
  
  
Summary: When LA is shaken by a series of bombings, Mark needs to clear his head before he can find out who is behind it.  
  
Disclaimer: The characters Mark Sloan, Steve Sloan, Jesse Travis, Amanda Bentley and her sons CJ and Dion do not belong to me, but belong to CBS and Viacom. I am not making a profit from this story it is purely for entertainment.  
  
All other characters belong to me.  
  
I also made up the names of the streets and the insurance companies. If they actually exist, then they do not belong to me, I am not making a profit etc.  
  
  
  
Making the Mark  
  
  
  
Doctor Mark Sloan ambled sleepily into the Doctors Lounge and made a beeline for the coffee pot. As he was pouring the brew into the cup, he heard a snort from behind him.  
  
He turned around, and smiled at the sight that met him. Doctor Jesse Travis was asleep on one of the couches over the other side of the room. He was facing the ceiling, his tousled hair more ruffled than usual. His right arm was hanging over the side of the couch, and the tips of the fingers just touched the floor. His left arm was against the back of the couch, sticking up almost vertically in the air.  
  
Mark sighed. He was not surprised that Jesse was asleep. Mark was pretty close to the land of slumber, too. It had been another stressful night at Community General Hospital. Mark had a rough idea that Jesse had done an extra four hours on top of his twelve-hour shift. "Come to think of it," Mark muttered to himself, "I've done at least two hours overtime."  
  
That night had been a flood of patients being rolled in at a constant pace. A third in a series of bombings had taken place that evening, and several people were injured. There had been three DOA that had been taken to Amanda Bentley's pathology lab. A couple of patients were critical, but mainly there were patients with minor injuries that could be easily dealt with.  
  
This case had Mark, and the rest of the LAPD, totally stumped. There had been three bombings so far. The first was on April 16th, the next on April 22nd and the third had been three days later, April 25th. All three bombings had taken place in insurance buildings and the bomber had used the same device each time. The only other piece of information that may have been helpful for the police was that on the wall outside each bombing, there had been written three different things. The first said, "For Tim," the second said, "For Lucy," and the third said, "For Joshua." Apart from that, the police had nothing.  
  
Amanda Bentley walked into the Doctors Lounge midway through Mark's chain of thought, and was about to say something when she saw Mark put his finger to his lips and pointed to the sleeping Jesse. Amanda smiled and nodded, and quietly poured herself a cup of coffee.  
  
She sat down at the table with Mark, and they began a conversation in whisper.  
  
"How are you holding up?" Mark asked as she took a sip of her coffee.  
  
"Better than him," Amanda replied, nodding to the sleeping figure not far away. "How about you?"  
  
"Not bad. A bit tired, maybe. But this case has me on edge right now."  
  
"I know what you mean. Have the police got any leads on this guy?" Amanda asked in a low voice.  
  
"No," Mark replied in an equally low voice. "The three insurance buildings aren't linked, apart from selling insurance, of course. The police are trying to look for someone with connections with anyone called Tim, Lucy or Joshua, but it isn't easy, as they could anyone living anywhere."  
  
"Who says they have to be living?" Lieutenant Steve Sloan walked in at that moment. Amanda and Mark both hissed, "Shhh!" Jesse stirred slightly, but his eyes remained closed.  
  
"Too much for him?" Steve asked in a whisper.  
  
"It's getting like that for everyone," Mark replied. Steve nodded.  
  
"Have you got any new leads?" Amanda asked Steve.  
  
"A small lead," Steve said. "It's not a lot to go on, but a witness remembers seeing a man leaving the scene just before the third bomb went off. She gave us a description, a vague one, but it's something, at least."  
  
"Well, at least that's something," Mark said.  
  
"Sure," Steve drawled, "I mean, how many men of five foot eleven, medium build with a thin and balding head of dark hair could there be in LA?"  
  
"That's not a bad description," Amanda calmed Steve, "except that it sounds like a fairly average man in a big city."  
  
Mark let out a large yawn at that moment. "I'm so tired," he sighed. As he let his arms drop to the table from the stretch with his yawn, and his arm landed on his cup of lukewarm coffee. The cup went flying, and landed with a smash and a splat on the floor.  
  
Jesse, whom had been in a light doze at the time, was startled by the noise, and jerked so much with the fright that he rolled right off of the couch and landed on the floor with a groan.  
  
As Amanda and Steve rolled on their chairs in fits of laughter, Mark said, "Jess, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up."  
  
"No problem," Jesse replied, getting up from the floor and straightening his clothes. "I'm awake now anyway." He came over to Mark and started helping him pick up the bits of the cup whilst Amanda got a cloth for the coffee. When the problem was sorted out, Mark decided to go home and get some rest before his shift the next morning.  
  
  
  
Once in bed, Mark found the fatigue slowly seep away from him. Before he drifted off to sleep, he thought about the case in hand. The case of the Carolina Street Bomber, as was known.  
  
The first bombing was the Carolina Street Insurance Company, on Carolina Street. This was why the bomber was so called. The bomb went off at approximately four thirty in the afternoon, a fairly peak time. It was a miracle that only one person died in the explosion, because it could have been so many more.  
  
No one had any clues that might have helped the police. The only thing that showed any significance was that one the wall outside, written in spray paint, was "For Tim."  
  
The police had tried searching for anything that related to anyone called Tim, but it was a long shot, and with no success. By that time, the second bomb had blasted in the city, a second place selling insurance. This one was the Jackson Insurance Company, operating on Fairfax Road. This site proved to have slightly more evidence, but nothing that could give the police a solid lead.  
  
Steve and the team found that the bomb was set to go off at five o'clock in the evening, but for some reason, the explosion did not take place. The bomb only went off at half past seven the next morning, when an employee put a heavy box on top of where the bomb was hidden. The employee died as soon as the bomb exploded, and the store manager in the back suffered burns and a broken arm. The fact that something went wrong with the bomb showed that the man was no expert, and probably got the instructions from the Internet or another source.  
  
Other evidence was that on the wall outside the building, there was written, "To Lucy." Because of this, the police could now be sure that the bomber was someone who was out looking for revenge against someone or something, and they were dedicating the bombings to these people.  
  
Mark then thought back to the events of that day. The first two bombs had not been particularly bad, as bombs go. They had produced little emergency for the hospital. The bomber had added some kind of extra strength to the third bomb, it seemed. There had been three deaths from this bomb, which was in the P.T. Marsden Insurance Company, and at least two patients were still in a critical condition. Many more people had come into the hospital with minor injuries, many more than the first two bombs. Mark suspected that the murderer was irritated that his second plan had not gone the way he had wanted, so he had made up for it in the third.  
  
Mark grimaced. Bombing was one of the things he hated. Bombs were man made devices, and he could not tolerate that man would make such a powerful and annihilating machine, and use it with the intention of murdering people.  
  
He was relieved when he caught bombers. He was glad that he did not have the opportunity often. When he did, he was thankful to catch them before they caused any more deaths. Mark wanted to catch this one in particular mainly for this reason, but also, he wanted to find out who the person was dedicating his explosions to, and why.  
  
The more Mark thought about it, the more he wanted to find out who was behind the bombings. The case was driving him mad! Who was this man? How did he get so good at evading the police? The questions spun in Marks head. In the moments before Mark drifted into a deep sleep, he had a thought that niggled at him. He didn't know what it was, but someone or something was in danger, and he had to do something before someone else got hurt. 


	2. Tension Mounts

Tension Mounts  
  
  
  
Mark awoke to the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafting into his bedroom, and the noise of cupboards opening and closing in the kitchen. Mark decided that it was time to get up and get ready for work. After washing and dressing, he padded into the kitchen.  
  
"Morning," Steve greeted. "Looks like you had about as much sleep as me."  
  
"That bad?" Mark asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee.  
  
"Don't drop this one," Steve commented, seeing Mark pick up the mug. Mark chucked in response.  
  
Steve continued. "I'm going to take another look at Sycamore Street site today. It was too late yesterday to do any real investigating. The captain advised that it would be better to look today. Want to come?"  
  
"I would if I could," Mark answered, "but I have rounds this morning, plus there are the extra patients from yesterday to tend to. I've got my hands full today."  
  
"I'll probably see you around today. After I check out the site, I'll probably drop in and start questioning some of the people who were there at the time to see if they saw anything."  
  
"Good idea. THAT is probably an investigation I could help with."  
  
"I thought you'd be interested."  
  
"This guy needs to be caught. We all have to do everything we can to ensure that happens."  
  
Steve knew then that the investigation was really beginning to get to his father. He paused to think before saying anything. "Dad, I know how you feel about this. Or I can guess, anyway. You probably feel like I do. I guess you're angry with the guy who is doing them, and you want to catch them as soon as possible. And you probably won't stop thinking about the whole thing until it is over."  
  
Mark nodded. Steve had read him like a book.  
  
Steve continued, "I want to catch him as much as you do, Dad. But we need to be patient, and wait until he slips up somewhere. Rushing into it will not do anyone any good. We have to wait."  
  
"Waiting costs lives," Mark muttered under his breath.  
  
"Pardon?" Steve enquired, not catching what his father had said.  
  
"Nothing," Mark mumbled, not wanting to become angry with anyone who did not deserve it, especially his son.  
  
The problem was, Mark knew that the anger was churning inside him, and soon, someone would say something and it would all flood out at once. And it would probably hit someone who did not justify it.  
  
  
  
For two days, Mark felt the stress gradually build up. It had not yet been let out, but the amount of tension inside him was becoming greater and greater. The people around him had noticed that there was something not quite right with Mark, but they let him be for the moment.  
  
Amanda and Jesse talked about Mark's behaviour over coffee on the morning three days after the third bombing.  
  
"He is getting more and more agitated," Jesse explained, gulping down his coffee.  
  
"I know," was all Amanda replied with as she sipped her own beverage. She seemed to be deep in thought.  
  
"It's probably this case getting to him, the Carolina Street bomber," Jesse continued. "That's when he started getting all edgy."  
  
"I don't recall ever seeing Mark get so fraught over a case, even a bombing one," Amanda added, seeing that Jesse had a good point.  
  
"Perhaps there is a different reason," Jesse suggested.  
  
"No, I am pretty sure you were right the first time," Amanda decided. "It is this case."  
  
"But why is it THIS case that is winding him up? I mean, like you said, no other cases have got to him this badly."  
  
"I don't know, Jess. It could be a whole number of things."  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"Well, it could be that this case has so little evidence with it that it is frustrating him. Or, perhaps he is worried that the bomber might strike again and again, and he won't be able to stop it."  
  
"Or, maybe he feels sorry for the guy behind it all."  
  
"How do you figure that?" Amanda asked, trying to hide the smirk on her face. She wondered where Jesse got his wacky ideas.  
  
"Well, this guy is making each of the blasts devoted to someone. I guess this guy has a reason for doing that, and maybe Mark thinks the same."  
  
"I doubt it, Jesse," Amanda chucked.  
  
At that moment, Steve walked into the room. "Hey, you guys," he greeted them. "Seen Dad around lately?"  
  
"Not lately," Amanda replied. "Why?"  
  
"Got the results back from the lab. on that spray paint can we found yesterday," Steve explained. "It matches the flake of paint we picked off the wall. We have a match."  
  
"Any prints on the can?" Jesse asked hopefully.  
  
"None," Steve replied gruffly "We are back to square one."  
  
"Have you questioned any of the victims yet?" Amanda asked.  
  
"A few, but none of them saw anything. They all say it happened too fast."  
  
"Understandable, except one thing," Mark said, walking in. The three faces turned to him, and he continued. "When does this guy spray the paint on the walls?"  
  
The three faces looked at him blankly. "Before? After?"  
  
"Maybe they painted it on before, and covered it up with something," Jesse came up with after a moment of silence.  
  
"Possible." Everyone could tell that Mark was tetchy at that moment. "Steve, one of the nurses said you wanted to see me?"  
  
"Yeah, I…" Steve was cut off by the bleeping of his beeper. After glancing at the device, he ran out of the room, calling behind him, "another bomb. Brace yourselves."  
  
  
  
Within minutes of Steve leaving the hospital to travel to the site, injured civilians began pouring into the hospital. So far, there were two DOA, but a lot more critically injured people.  
  
One particular woman was rolled in and diagnosed by Mark. She was half conscious, and Mark caught part of her mutterings. "I saw who is was," the woman murmured, "I saw who the bomber was." That was all she said before she passed out.  
  
"This woman needs emergency surgery," Mark said. "She is internally bleeding. Jesse!" The young doctor looked up from where he was working. "Over here." Jesse jogged over to where the wiser doctor was. After explaining the situation to him, he almost growled, "This is important, Jesse. Before she passed out, she said she knew who the bomber was. She holds the vital piece of information in this investigation."  
  
Jesse nodded, and got ready for the surgery.  
  
  
  
Meanwhile, the other doctors and nurses, including Mark and Amanda, had stabilised the other patients, and were taking a quick rest in the Doctor's Lounge.  
  
"Where was it this time?" Amanda asked.  
  
"Mayflower Road, the Colombia Insurance Company," Mark replied drowsily.  
  
"Why don't you go home?" Amanda suggested. "As the patients are all stable now, it is better for you to get some rest now rather than later."  
  
"Not yet," Mark said. "I'm going to wait for Jesse to bring the woman out of surgery. She knows who the bomber is."  
  
"Mark, it could be hours before the woman comes around after the surgery, you know that. You really should get some sleep."  
  
Mark shrugged. Amanda had never known Mark to be so stubborn, or short with her. She sat with him, and she too waited for news of the woman in surgery.  
  
Sometime later, Jesse walked to the door of the Doctors' Lounge. He looked tired, and his face was pale. Mark jumped out of his chair, and Amanda followed, worried about the expression on Jesse's face.  
  
"Well?" Mark demanded to know. "Is she stable?"  
  
Amanda and Jesse were both astounded at Mark's tone of voice. What was wrong with him? This case was an obsession to Mark, Amanda decided.  
  
"Well?" Mark repeated. Jesse shook his head.  
  
"She lost too much blood," was all he could say. He hung his head as he said the words.  
  
Marks face turned to stone. For a moment, words failed him. Then, with a glare directed at Jesse, he spat out the words, "she knew who it was. She could have told us who was behind these bombings. She could have stopped more lives from being lost. You've prevented that from happening, Dr. Travis. Losing that one life could cost countless other lives. You will pay for that mistake." With that, he stormed off.  
  
Jesse looked at the retreating back. He let his own back slide down the frame of the door where he had been leaning. He drew his knees towards his chest and wrapped his arms around them.  
  
Amanda, who had stared at the scene with an open mouth, walked over to Jesse and crouched down beside him. She put her arm on his shoulder. He looked up at her, and she noticed he had a single tear running down his face.  
  
"Jess," she said, with a soothing tone in her voice. "Jesse, I can't believe Mark would do that."  
  
"I didn't mean to," Jesse snivelled, feeling about six years old at that moment.  
  
"I know you didn't," Amanda calmly said. "And I am sure that inside, Mark knows that too." She helped Jesse to him feet, and sat him at a nearby table in the Doctors' Lounge.  
  
"I've never seen Mark get so angry like that," Jesse said.  
  
"It's not a normal occurrence," Amanda assured him. "It takes a lot of pressure to make someone like Mark blow like that. I think that this case has been so stressful for Mark. Don't ask me why it is specifically this case that has wound him up, because I don't know. But I think that the tension has been building up so much, and when he saw the chance of solving the case slip away, he just hit the roof. Sooner or later, he would have lost it anyway. It was nothing personal, nothing against you."  
  
Jesse sighed. "I wish he hadn't have yelled at me." Amanda gave him a hug, and they both wished that Mark would take back what he just said. 


	3. Friction, and Smoothing Things Out

Friction, and Smoothing Things Out  
  
  
  
Amanda and Jesse were not the only ones with that particular desire. Mark sat down in his office, in his big, leather office chair, and for the first time in a fortnight felt that a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He then remembered what had lifted the weight, and was horrified at his own actions.  
  
"Did I just shout at Jesse?" Mark asked himself. "Did I just say all those things to him?" All of Mark's stress had been relieved, but to someone who definitely did not deserve it.  
  
He remembered the look on Jesse's face. The young man's eyes were filled with fear, and his face was abnormally pale. "How could I have done that to him? How could I have been so appalling?"  
  
Mark recounted the past few days. He tried to remember the last time he had smiled, or paid someone a compliment, or laughed at something. The memory was too distant for his liking. He had been so wrapped up in the case that he had become miserable and grumpy, and selfish too.  
  
Then he remembered the look on Amanda's face. She had looked slightly frightened, too. But mainly, she bore a look of shock and alarm on her face. Mark kept repeating the same question, "How could I have done that?"  
  
It was the case that was bothering him. This case. The case of the Carolina Street Bomber. He kept asking himself a question that others had been asking themselves. "Why this case?"  
  
The answer was an entanglement of different emotions. He had a lot of anger against this person, because they had taken lives and had caused so much damage in the city. This anger had developed to a starving desire to catch the person behind the bombings, but there was something else. He felt sorry for the person. He really did. He felt sorry in that this person lost people in their life. "Tim, Lucy, and Joshua," he muttered to himself. And, this person was using bombings as a way of showing his feelings. It seemed to be that extreme.  
  
Mark realised all too soon that he had let his feelings and emotions get in the way of everything else. He had been treating his friends and colleagues with a bad temper, his bedside manner with his patients was probably very off-putting, and on top of that, he had just caused a huge scene and shouted at Jesse, one of his best friends.  
  
He had to go and apologise, before he did anything else.  
  
Mark left the room, and searched the hospital for any sign of Jesse. Finally, he asked a nurse at the lobby if she had seen him.  
  
"I'm sorry, Doctor Sloan," said the nurse, "but Doctor Travis signed out about twenty minutes ago. He wasn't feeling very well."  
  
Mark sighed. He thought about phoning Jesse, but decided against it. He had to apologise in person. No other way would work.  
  
  
  
Jesse phoned in sick the next day. He called Amanda, saying that he couldn't face Mark that day.  
  
"You've got to face him sometime," Amanda said. "He's your boss!"  
  
"I know," replied Jesse. "I know, but not today. Tomorrow, I'll be fine."  
  
Amanda put the phone down, and sighed. She had not seen Mark that day, but was not planning on meeting him if she could help it. Although she was not the one who was shouted at the previous night, she was still very wary of Mark, and was not entirely sure if he had calmed down or not.  
  
A few minutes later, she was paid a visit from the younger of the Sloan men.  
  
"Hi," Amanda greeted quietly, studying a file from one of the victims of the previous day.  
  
"Hi, Amanda," Steve greeted. "Have you seen Dad anywhere? He left early this morning, and I never saw him last night."  
  
Amanda saw that Steve genuinely had no idea what had happened the day before.  
  
"I don't know where he is," she said blankly. "I haven't seen him since last night." She changed the subject. "Find anything at the site yesterday?"  
  
"Another dedication, this time to someone called Stacy."  
  
"Anything else?"  
  
"A security tape," Steve said with a grin. "We are going to have a look at it today. It may not show much, because it tapes from across the street, but it will be worth a look."  
  
Amanda sighed with relief. "Finally, some evidence."  
  
"I know," Steve agreed. "Perhaps we can finally get this guy."  
  
"And everything can return back to normal."  
  
Steve looked at Amanda for a moment, and said, "I missed something, didn't I?"  
  
"You could say that," Amanda replied.  
  
Steve turned to the door. "I'm gonna look for Jesse. Perhaps he can give me a straight answer."  
  
He did not wait for a reply from Amanda as he left. She chuckled as she watched him leave, and merely said, "good luck."  
  
  
  
Mark did not go to see Amanda that day. He was so ashamed of his behaviour that he could not face her that day. Instead, he absorbed himself in his work at the hospital, making a better impression on his patients than he had been doing for the past few days. He decided to talk to both her and Jesse the following day.  
  
The day arrived, and Mark began by talking to Amanda. They sat down at a table in the Doctors' Lounge, and after a stiff silence, Mark began.  
  
"Amanda, I want to apologise to you," Mark began.  
  
"I don't think it is me who needs the apology," Amanda stated.  
  
"Hear me out," Mark said. "I want to apologise for my behaviour over the past days. I got so wound up in this case; I forgot everyone and everything else, especially my friends. All that is going to change now."  
  
"How?" Amanda asked sceptically.  
  
"I'm going to make it happen. There have been a lot of reasons that this case has been bothering me. I am going to stop it right now. I am going to treat it like any other case, as far as possible."  
  
Amanda looked up at the man, a father figure to everyone, and saw the authenticity in his eyes. She nodded. "I believe you, and I will feel better once you tell this to Jesse."  
  
"I have been trying to find him all morning, but I think he has been avoiding me, and with good reason, too," he added.  
  
"If you don't find him, I will, and I'll tell him that everything is okay now."  
  
  
  
After searching the hospital, Mark consulted Amanda, telling her that there was no sign on him.  
  
"He could be out to lunch," Amanda said. Mark nodded, and he too left for his lunch. Whilst he was out, Amanda paged Jesse.  
  
"Hey, Amanda, what's up?" Jesse asked as she answered the phone.  
  
"Mark has spent the whole morning looking for you," Amanda told him.  
  
After a moment of silence, Amanda continued, "He is looking for you to apologise to you. He is really sorry, trust me."  
  
"You're just saying that to make me feel better," Jesse said.  
  
"You don't believe me?"  
  
"Guess I don't believe Dr Sloan." Amanda tried for a few more minutes to let Jesse believe her, but to no avail.  
  
  
  
A little later, Jesse was sitting in the Doctors Lounge by himself, his back to the door as he sat thinking.  
  
He was reliving the moment when Mark shouted at him two nights ago. The last few words had upset him the most. "You will pay for that mistake." Jesse shuddered at the memory. Was this how he was paying for it?  
  
As he was thinking, Mark walked past the room and saw Jesse there. Finally, he thought to himself.  
  
He hoped to be tactful in what he was going to say. "Jesse," he began, still waiting at the doorframe. Jesse tensed very slightly, but did not look around. Mark tried not to let this put him off.  
  
"Jesse, I'm sorry," Mark said. "I am sorry for the way I have been acting lately, and for the what I said the other day." After a pause, he continued. "I haven't been myself. It's because of this case; it has been getting to me a lot. But, that is no excuse for my behaviour. There is no excuse for the way I acted. I should not have let it happened. I take back everything I said."  
  
He had finally said the words that meant everything for Jesse. As Mark turned to leave, Jesse twisted around in his seat. "I forgive you, Mark."  
  
Mark turned back. "You do?"  
  
"Yeah," Jesse replied. After a moment, he stood up, and said, "Welcome back, Mark."  
  
Mark stood for a moment, wondering what he had meant by that. "Why welcome back?" he asked.  
  
"You weren't you since this case began. You are you now." Through Jesse's senseless speech, Mark understood exactly what Jesse meant. "Just promise that you won't go all crazy over a case again."  
  
Mark held up his hand as a salute. "I promise," he said, chuckling afterwards. 


	4. Disaster

Disaster  
  
The next day was Saturday, and that lunchtime, everyone was eating at BBQ Bob's. Amanda had brought CJ and Dion out to lunch that day.  
  
"How did you like the ribs?" Chef Jesse asked the two youngsters.  
  
"Great," CJ expressed his approval. Jesse glanced at him, and picked up a napkin.  
  
"You haven't quite finished yet," he said, wiping the sides of his face.  
  
As Jesse cleaned up the plates, and CJ's face, Mark and Amanda told Steve the story of the fight that had happened over the past few days.  
  
"How did I not know any of this?" he asked when the other two had finished explaining?  
  
"We all kept out of the way of each other," Mark told him. "Jesse spent the past two days avoiding everyone."  
  
"THAT'S why I couldn't find him," Steve exclaimed.  
  
"You couldn't find me because I was never at the hospital on the day you were looking for me," Jesse said, coming over to the table with a cloth.  
  
"I still cannot believe that no one told me anything about this," Steve told them.  
  
"It wasn't exactly the nicest thing to get involved in," Mark mumbled. "I can't believe I lost it with Jesse like that. Again, Jess, I'm..."  
  
"Mark, if you tell me that you are sorry one more time, you get to do the washing up," Jesse chuckled. Mark kept his mouth shut, but grinned.  
  
At that point, a beeping noise could be heard from outside the restaurant. Amanda exclaimed, "That's my car alarm!" She ran outside, closely followed by Mark and Steve. "Kids, stay here," Steve said. He didn't want them to see him arrest a potential car thief.  
  
Dion got up from his chair. "My coat is in the car," he called as Jesse tried to stop him. He gave up and turned to CJ.  
  
"Hey, don't worry," he said, sitting him on a seat at the counter. "It's probably just the breeze outside that made the car alarm go off. Happens to my car all the time. Have some coke." CJ smiled, and drank the coke as Jesse wiped up the counter.  
  
Outside, the four of them had crossed to the other side of the street to find that a girl had roller-skated into the car and the alarm had been set off. "I'm sorry," she said. "I haven't learnt to stop yet."  
  
"It's okay, don't worry," Amanda said, relieved that there was no thief.  
  
They turned around and had taken one step back towards the restaurant when a blast exploded from next door. The explosion was so strong that it had badly damaged BBQ Bob's as well.  
  
"CJ!" Amanda screamed, and began running towards the restaurant. She was stopped by Steve, who grabbed her.  
  
"Not going to happen, Amanda," Steve said, holding her by her shaking shoulders. Amanda noticed Dion, whom was standing still, stunned by the sight in front of him. She ran to him and embraced him into a hug.  
  
Mark had called the emergency services whilst that was happening. He walked over to Steve. "Jesse and CJ are in there," he murmured.  
  
"He'll be okay, Dad," Steve reassured him.  
  
Barbeque Bob's was a mess, to put it lightly. The kitchen part of the building was totally engulfed in flames. Jesse had been thrown over the counter, and had landed in a heap with CJ by his side. The rest of the building had been badly shaken, and smoke overwhelmed the area.  
  
Inside the burning building, Jesse opened his eyes. He saw the ceiling above him, and noted that it did not look very stable. He lifted his head up slightly, and saw that CJ lay beside him.  
  
"Hey, CJ?" Jesse shook the young boy's shoulders slightly. CJ opened his eyes.  
  
"Jesse?" CJ asked, not really knowing where he was.  
  
Jesse, acting quickly, took off his Denim jacket. "CJ, can you stand up for me?" CJ did so, and Jesse continued. "Right, see the door over there?" CJ nodded. "I'm going to put this over your head, and you are going to run really, really fast out of that door. Do you understand?"  
  
CJ nodded. Jesse put the coat over his head, and he watched as CJ ran outside. Now, he said, to tend to the others inside the building.  
  
Amanda watched in awe as she saw the pair of legs and the jacket run towards her.  
  
"CJ!" she cried as she enveloped him into a hug. "Thank God you are alive!"  
  
"CJ, is this Jesse's jacket?" Steve asked, recognising it.  
  
"Yeah," CJ said, sobbing into his mother's shoulder. "He gave it to me and told me to run out of the door."  
  
"At least we know he's still alive," Mark said. In the far-off distance, he heard an orchestra of sirens. "Amanda, we should admit CJ to hospital for shock and smoke inhalation. And we ourselves need to get to the hospital, to help out. I'll take my car, you can ride with CJ in the first ambulance."  
  
"Yes Mark," Amanda agreed.  
  
Jesse was working hard and fast as he tended to the injured people in the burning restaurant. He had sent two people outside, but the doorway was beginning to collapse now, and it was not safe to send them outside. Instead, he kept them under the tables.  
  
"All right," he said. He looked down at his handiwork. He had tied a piece of broken chair to a person's fractured arm with one of the tablecloths. "Now, keep that there until the paramedics arrived."  
  
Jesse had already done the same sort of thing with a broken leg, and he had done his best for a man with burns, but it was difficult with no supplies, and the smoke that filled the room was not helping.  
  
He turned to the woman a few feet away. He felt in her neck for a pulse, and then listened for breathing. "Nothing," he muttered. He put a tablecloth over the woman. He wondered if there were anymore like her in the building, and how many there could be.  
  
Jesse glanced up to the ceiling. More and more bits of plaster and dust were seeping through the cracks of the heaving ceiling. "That is never going to last," Jesse murmured as he moved to the other side of the room.  
  
He walked over to where a couple were sitting, near the front window of the building. He found a man with a bleeding head, and a woman in shock.  
  
"I knocked it on the side of the table," the man said as Jesse applied a cloth to the wound. "How bad is it?"  
  
"It will be fine once it gets stitched up," Jesse began. He was about to tell the man that he also had a concussion, but he never got that far.  
  
The ceiling above him gave its final heave, and plaster began to rain down in the restaurant. Thankfully, Jesse had kept most people under the tables, so there would be less damage done to them. For Jesse, though, he only had time to shut his eyes before the rubble plummeted from above and crushed him beneath it.  
  
Outside, screams could be heard and a huge rumble filled the air. "The ceiling must have caved in," one of the fire officers called to another. Steve, who had been putting his fire-fighting equipment on at the time, grimaced as he heard this bit of news.  
  
"We're going in now," the captain called to the crew. For Steve, this announcement could not have come soon enough. His best friend was in there, and he had a huge desire to get him and the rest of the civilians out of the inferno.  
  
The two people tried to pull Jesse under the table, but it was too late. The dust cleared, and they began to pull the weight of plaster off of him, but Jesse was already unconscious, with injuries that the two civilians could not hope to deal with.  
  
After a few minutes, one fireman entered the building, shortly followed by Steve, who was in fire-fighter gear. He looked at the state of the restaurant, and gasped. He wondered how anyone could have survived the blast from inside.  
  
"Hey, over here!" The man with the bleeding head waved to the fire crew, and choked as he called to them.  
  
Steve came over to them, whilst the other man went to see other people. "There's a guy under the rubble. We've been trying to get it off of him."  
  
As Steve carefully picked out the rubble, he saw that it was Jesse underneath it. Steve gasped. He felt for a pulse, and was glad that it was still there, however weak it was.  
  
Even in the dim light, Steve could see a lot of Jesse's injuries. His head was bleeding in several places. He lifted the blocks from Jesse's torso, and revealed that Jesse's shirt was torn in several places, and blood was seeping through in others.  
  
"All right, get a stretcher in here, now!" Steve called out to nobody in particular. He had finished uncovering Jesse. "You're gonna be fine, Jess" he said to him. Where was that stretcher? "I said NOW!" A stretcher was produced, and Jesse was lifted to it.  
  
"See you later, buddy," Steve whispered as his best friend was carried away. 


	5. The Aftermath

The Aftermath  
  
"How many have you got out?" Mark asked as he discussed the unfolding events with his son, via their cellphones.  
  
"Quite a few, about eight I think," Steve said. "I wasn't as difficult as first thought. Jesse had put most of them under tables."  
  
"How about in the Gateway Office?" Mark asked, referring to the building next to BBQ Bob's.  
  
"Fire crew are still dealing with that. A team will be sent into it in about three minutes," Steve explained. "Has Jesse arrived yet?"  
  
"Not yet," Mark replied.  
  
"Brace yourself, Dad," Steve warned. "His injuries were not pretty."  
  
"What did he have?" Mark asked.  
  
"I'm no doctor, I hope you know," Steve told him. "Well, his head was bleeding in a couple of places. His chest was bleeding, too."  
  
"Probably broken ribs," Mark sighed.  
  
"The rubble landed on one side," Steve said. "That was the side that was bleeding. Right side I think."  
  
"All right, he's here, I gotta go," Mark spoke hastily. "Talk later."  
  
"Doctor Sloan," one of the paramedics called. Mark hurried over, and tried not to contort at the sight of Jesse's injuries.  
  
"What have you got?"  
  
"Head injuries, concussion, broken ribs, one deflated lung, possible fractured upper arm," the paramedic recited as Jesse was wheeled into one of the ER rooms.  
  
Mark took a look himself. He winced, "Jeez." The injuries, as Steve had said, were serious. He then reeled off all the treatments and diagnoses that Jesse would need.  
  
As Jesse was wheeled away, Amanda arrived with Dion.  
  
"Hey Dion," Mark greeted, nodding at Amanda. Mark reached behind the boy's ear and produced a coin. Dion grinned. "Now, another magic trick. You put that coin in that machine over there, press a couple of buttons, and you get a candy bar!"  
  
Dion did not need to be told twice. As he jogged over to the machine, Mark turned to Amanda. "How are you holding up?"  
  
"Still a bit shaky, but better than before," Amanda told him.  
  
"How's CJ?"  
  
"I don't think the shock has sunk in yet. Physically, though, he's fine." Amanda sighed. "Once the shock sinks in, I'm going to have a lot to deal with. Plus, there's Dion, who really did not need to see something like this. He's been through enough as it is."  
  
Mark nodded. Dion was on his way back now. "When are we going home?" The boy asked.  
  
"In a while, honey," Amanda said. She turned back to Mark. "How's Jesse?"  
  
"Too early to tell," Mark said. He hesitated, before saying, "it's serious, though."  
  
"Serious?" Amanda queried. Evidently, she had not yet heard about the ceiling caving in.  
  
"You could say that. You see, the ceiling could not take the strain of the explosion and the heat," Mark explained. "It caved in."  
  
Amanda was stunned. "What kind of injuries?"  
  
"Probable broken ribs, concussion," Mark told her quietly.  
  
At that moment, another fleet on patients were streaming into the hospital.  
  
"Doctor Sloan," a paramedic grabbed his attention. Mark hastened to the gurney.  
  
"What have you got?" Mark asked.  
  
"Man, forties, severe burns, possible broken arm. Found him in the back office of Gateway Insurance Office."  
  
"Take him to X-Ray, and have Doctor Marsden deal with the burns," Mark replied as the gurney was wheeled on its way.  
  
Patient after patient were rolled into the hospital, and each time, Mark had visions that the next casualty might well be his own son, whom was working fervently at saving the lives of those at the scene of the bombing. Seeing Jesse being brought in was bad enough, and that was with prior warning from Steve.  
  
It was not long before Steve himself entered the hospital. "Hi, Dad," Steve said. "How're you holding up?"  
  
"So-so," Mark replied. "What's the latest at the site?"  
  
"We've got everyone out of BBQ Bob's. Only one DOA from in there," Steve concluded.  
  
"We have got Jesse to thank for that," Mark commented.  
  
"I know," Steve replied. "He got everyone under the tables, so that the ceiling did little damage to them when it fell in."  
  
There was an awkward silence, before Steve said, "Can I go and see him yet?"  
  
Mark shook his head. "He's in surgery. He suffered broken ribs and they need to be dealt with before they puncture a lung."  
  
"How many broken ribs? And what other injuries?" Steve persisted to know.  
  
"I'll know exactly how many broken ribs there were later, when he comes out of surgery, but as you said, they were all on his right side. Other injuries include the trauma to the head, and again we'll know all about that when he is finished in surgery."  
  
"How about CJ, and Amanda and Dion? How are they?"  
  
"They are all physically fine, but it is going to take a lot of hard work to help them get over what has happened."  
  
Steve sighed. "It's one of those things that you think, it will never happen to you."  
  
Mark replied, "life throws some crazy things at you."  
  
"If that girl had not skated into Amanda's car, it could have been so much worse," Steve mused. "You, me and Amanda would have still been in there when it went off."  
  
"And Dion would have still been in there if he hadn't have left his coat in the car," Mark added. "You're right, Steve. We ought to be thankful that it wasn't that worse. It could have been all of us where Jesse is now."  
  
"It shouldn't have been anyone! Why is this guy out to bomb every insurance office in LA? What's wrong with him?"  
  
"Calm down, Steve," Mark soothed his son. "I'm angry about this, too, but getting livid about it will not do anyone any good."  
  
Steve chuckled at the remark. "Now look who's talking?"  
  
"All right, all right," Mark held his hands up in the air. "I know, I know. But, I have learnt my lesson. From now on, I stay totally rational and clear-headed, and that's a promise."  
  
"Sure," drawled Steve. "Until the next argument."  
  
Mark was about to retort when Steve's cellphone rang. "Sloan here... okay... when? Now? Sure... right... I'll see you there."  
  
Steve replied to Mark's questioning look. "They've got everyone out of the sites now. Expect two more casualties and one body arriving pretty soon. They've declared the site okay to start investigating, so that's where I'm headed."  
  
"Sure," Mark said. "Afterwards I deal with the two expected patients, I'm going to wait for Jesse to come out of surgery."  
  
"How come you're not doing the surgery yourself?" Steve asked.  
  
"Are you kidding? For one thing, Jesse is my friend and I'd probably go nuts if I had to operate on him. Secondly, we're needed in ER to admit the patients from the bombsite. Thirdly, I'm probably still a bit shaky having just witnessed a bomb go off not more than a couple of hours ago. Fourthly..."  
  
"Okay, okay! I get the picture! When he comes out, phone me and I'll be back here quicker than you can say potato chips."  
  
"Hungry?" Mark asked, knowing that when Steve was hungry, food was always a priority in his mind.  
  
"Starving," Steve replied, giving a wave as he headed to an exit of the hospital. "See ya later!"  
  
A few moments later, the two gurneys were rolled in with the last two casualties from the fifth bombing site. Mark dealt with these two patients, and then headed to where Jesse was in surgery.  
  
Steve had been picking around the site for almost an hour, and had not come up with anything. He was beginning to get bored, and ticked off. This was really not going to be his day.  
  
"Lieutenant Sloan," one of the officers called him over. Steve was in a team of investigators at the site of the fifth bombing. The area was a complete mess, and Steve was feeling low at seeing his business in ruins.  
  
Steve walked over to the officer. "What is it, Bill?"  
  
"See here?" Bill asked, pointing to the wall.  
  
"To Beverly," Steve read.  
  
"Well, there's a tree just here," Bill motioned. "And I dug up a bit of the ground at the foot of the tree, and I found this." Bill held up a clear evidence bag, containing a ring. "It's inscribed. `Beverly, love always, Frank.' Short and sweet."  
  
Steve grinned. "Bill, when the Captain hears about this, he will be over the moon. All we have to do is find this Frank character, and we've got this guy."  
  
"If I find anything else, I'll be sure and let you know."  
  
"You'll be hearing from me," Steve called as he got into the car. For a start, this ring was inscribed. Secondly, there was always the chance that there would be fingerprints on it. Bingo!  
  
Steve thought to himself, it was only five minutes ago that he had decided that it was not his day. Boy, had that changed! He had, thanks to the sharp wits of his colleague Bill, a piece of key evidence that would most probably lead to the guy behind all of the bombings.  
  
Steve just wished that he could have caught him before his best friend had been hurt. 


	6. Pieces of the Puzzle

Pieces of the Puzzle  
  
Mark had spent at least one weary hour waiting outside the operating theatre. He had been told that there had been some complications, but the messenger had left it at that. This news had made Mark even more anxious.  
  
"Come on," Mark muttered. "It's been four hours!" He looked at his watch, and saw that it was now close to five o'clock. What could they be doing in there, he wondered.  
  
A few minutes later, the gurney was rolled out of the theatre. Mark watched his friend roll by, and then talked to the doctor in the surgery.  
  
"What were the complications?" Mark asked the instant he saw the doctor.  
  
"I am not authorised to tell you," the doctor replied. "I think you should ask Dr. Green."  
  
After ten minutes of searching, Mark found Dr. Green in his office.  
  
"Mark," the doctor greeted, looking up from his desk. "Have a seat. I assume you are here about Doctor Travis?"  
  
"Indeed, I am," Mark replied, sitting himself down in one of the two leather chairs in Dr. Green's office. "I was told there were complications."  
  
"Ah," Dr. Green sighed.  
  
"What?" Mark asked. "Come on, Robert. What gives?"  
  
"Well," the doctor began, "we took some scans of Jesse's cranium."  
  
"And?"  
  
"From the results of the tests, there is the possibility that not everything will be right when Jesse wakes up," Dr. Green sighed.  
  
Mark's eyes opened wide. "Brain damage?"  
  
"There is a fifty-fifty chance," Robert replied.  
  
Mark tried to hope for the better fifty in the chance. "How about his ribs?"  
  
"They are fine," Robert replied. "Taped up, and without the punctured lung."  
  
At least that's something, Mark thought.  
  
His colleague saw the look on Mark's face. "I can't do anything until Jesse wakes up. I wish there was something I could do now. I'm sorry, Mark."  
  
Mark turned to leave. "Thanks," was all he could say. He shut the door behind him. Then he opened it again. "Is it okay to go and see him now?"  
  
"Sure," Robert replied. "Just don't expect him to be awake yet. It could be a while."  
  
Mark nodded. "I know." Then, for the second time, he left Dr. Green's office.  
  
Mark walked into Jesse's room. Monitors and machines were operating, and an array of wires was attached to the young man.  
  
Mark sat in a nearby chair. He stared down at the figure before him. One side, the side closest to Mark, was tightly bandaged. Jesse's shoulder had a dressing on, and blood was beginning to stain the top layer.  
  
Jesse's head was also bandaged, only on the right side of his forehead. The rest of him was bruised, grazed and scratched. Mark winced as he realised how much pain Jesse would be in when he woke up, and that was with pain relievers.  
  
"Hey, Jess," Mark whispered. "I know you can't hear me, but I'm gonna say it all anyway."  
  
"After all the stuff that's happened today, it's difficult to believe that under a week ago, I shouted at you, and for a moment, I couldn't have cared less about what happened to you. I'm glad that we sorted it out before today."  
  
"You showed something special today. Actually, you showed two special things. You showed selflessness, and you showed courage. Other people in your position would have just ran out of Bob's today, and not cared about anyone else in there. You stayed, and today you saved countless lives, not caring about your own. THAT is something special."  
  
"What happened to you today. You didn't deserve that. You saved so many lives today, and what do you get? You get a whole tonne of rubble fall down on top of you. I don't find that fair. Maybe you knew that the ceiling was going to collapse, but you still carried on regardless. You know what that makes you? A hero, I guess."  
  
"We are going to get whoever did this. You don't need to worry about that. You concentrate on getting better. I'll see you later." Mark got up to leave; glad that although Jesse was oblivious to Mark having just poured his heart out to him, he had done it and made himself feel a bit better.  
  
Mark ran into Steve in a corridor of the hospital.  
  
"Hey, Dad!" Steve exclaimed with a big grin on his face. Mark knew that only one thing would make Steve grin that much.  
  
"Please tell me you have good news," Mark said, knowing full well that Steve definitely did have good news.  
  
"Will do," Steve said. "A good friend of mine just found us a reasonable bit of evidence."  
  
"What would that be?" Mark asked.  
  
"A wedding ring, inscribed, with prints," Steve proclaimed. "It said, `Beverly, love always, Frank.' Pretty good, huh?"  
  
Mark's eyes lit up. "I think I can save you the trouble of going through records and looking for anyone called Frank or Beverly," Mark told him.  
  
"You can?" Steve asked with wonderment.  
  
"Frank Huddersfield," Mark stated. "I remember it well. Come into the Doctor's Lounge, Steve."  
  
Mark and Steve settled down at a table with a coffee. "Okay, Dad," Steve said. "Who is Frank Huddersfield?"  
  
"It happened a year ago," Mark recalled. "There was a big car crash in town. You might remember it."  
  
"I remember," Steve said. "I wasn't directly involved, but they were short of officers that night, so I went along to help out."  
  
"Well," Mark continued. "There were three cars involved. One belonged to the Huddersfield family, and another belonged to the Conan family. The two members of the Conan family were Tim and Lucy. Lucy was Frank's sister, and Tim was Frank's brother-in-law."  
  
"Go on," Steve said.  
  
"In the Huddersfield car was Frank, and Frank's wife, Beverly. Also, in the back-seat, were the two Huddersfield children, Joshua and Stacy."  
  
"Let me guess," Steve cut in. "I think that everyone except for Frank died on impact."  
  
"Not quite," Mark explained. "Tim, Lucy, Joshua and Stacy died on impact. Beverly didn't. She was paralysed from the neck downwards, for nine months, before she got so ill that she was too weak to go on. She had a stroke, and died."  
  
"Guess he was pretty annoyed," Steve murmured.  
  
"You could say that. You could also say that he was pretty annoyed when he was given zero insurance."  
  
"Whoa boy," Steve muttered under his breath.  
  
"Whoa boy is right," Mark agreed.  
  
"Okay, so this guy bombs every insurance company in LA? How many are there?"  
  
"I had got no idea," Mark said. "Dozens, I'd say."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"But, I have a feeling that's not the way he's going. I mean, he hasn't got anyone else to dedicate his bombings to now, has he?"  
  
"So, he'll just stop there?"  
  
"I doubt that he'll carry it on," Mark said. "He's one of these people who quits while he's ahead."  
  
"Right," Steve said, getting to his feet. "All I need now is an address for him."  
  
"I'll be back with the file," Mark said. Steve went with him.  
  
"Have you seen Jesse yet?" Steve asked as they walked to where the files were kept.  
  
"Yes, I have," was all that Mark said.  
  
"And?"  
  
"And what?"  
  
"And what?" Steve asked in astonishment. "What do you mean, and what? How is he?"  
  
"The surgery went well," Mark told him. "The ribs were dealt with, and they managed it without collapsing the lung. The procedure has been around for a while, but there is always a chance that the lung will be punctured, especially with the amount ribs that were damaged."  
  
"So he's got the all-clear?" Steve asked, not particularly wanting a lecture about modern medicines and all the things that could go wrong.  
  
"Not exactly," Mark said.  
  
"So, what else is wrong?"  
  
"We'll have to see when he wakes up," Mark told him, flipping through the files, looking for one belonging to the Huddersfield family. "You know, Frank may have moved. He lived in a big house before, and he probably wanted to leave and move somewhere smaller."  
  
"Dad, you're hiding something," Steve said. "What's the problem?"  
  
Mark turned around, having found the file. "Here it is," he declared. "I'll find a piece of paper and a pen, and you can go and get this guy."  
  
"I'll do that," Steve began. "AFTER you tell me what's eating you."  
  
Mark sighed. "All right," he said. "I don't know if you saw, but there was some trauma to Jesse's skull."  
  
"Yeah," Steve said.  
  
"Well, Dr. Green says that there is a fifty-fifty chance of things not being quite right when Jesse wakes up."  
  
"You mean...?" Steve asked, not being able to finish the sentence.  
  
"I'm afraid so," Mark said. "I don't like it anymore than you do. But, you do know that if it happens, and I repeat, IF it happens, then we have to be there for Jesse. It will hit everyone hard, but we have to do everything we can to help Jesse through this."  
  
Steve nodded. Mark handed him the piece of paper. "Right, well," Steve began, remembering what the paper was for. "I've got a bomber to catch. I'll see you later."  
  
"You too," Mark said. "And, be careful." 


	7. So Close

So Close  
  
It was approaching dusk when Steve parked his car outside the dwelling. He got out, and rapped sharply on the door of the large house. A woman came to the door.  
  
"Yes?" she inquired. "What can I do for you?"  
  
"I am Lieutenant Steve Sloan, of the LAPD. Does a Frank Huddersfield live here?" Steve asked her.  
  
"No," the woman replied. "I've lived here for two months now. Mr Huddersfield was the last resident here."  
  
"Do you know where he might live now?"  
  
"Personally, I have no idea, but when my husband gets back, he'll know."  
  
"Do you know where he is?"  
  
"He's on a business trip in Europe. He'll be back tomorrow, at about lunchtime."  
  
"Ok, thank you, Mrs..."  
  
"Mrs Edwards," the woman said, smiling.  
  
"Ok, Mrs Edwards," Steve said, fumbling in his pocket. "Here's my number. Call me the moment your husband arrives back please."  
  
"Sure thing, Lieutenant Sloan," Mrs Edwards said. "I'm sorry that I couldn't be anymore help."  
  
"You could be. Do you know anything, absolutely anything at all about Frank Huddersfield?"  
  
"He was a great photographer," Mrs Edwards said instantly.  
  
"How did you know that?" Steve asked in surprise.  
  
"My eldest daughter, Louise, worked as a training journalist at the same outfit as Frank Huddersfield," Mrs Edwards explained. "She spoke highly of him before the big accident. After that, he totally fell apart, losing his family like that. He spent all his spare time caring for his wife, even though he had employed an around-the-clock carer for her."  
  
"What about after that?"  
  
"Well, her condition got much worse," Mrs Edwards began. "Oh, my manners! Come inside! Would you like some tea?"  
  
"Hmm?" Steve was confused by the sudden outburst. "Oh, no thank you." He went into the living room and settled down on one of the armchairs. "You said Mrs Huddersfield's condition..."  
  
"Yes, it got worse," Mrs Edwards picked up where she left off. "Well, Frank was losing his sanity, it seemed like. He came into work less and less, from what Lou told me, and when he did go to work, it was not his usual quality."  
  
"Carry on," Steve urged her.  
  
"After Beverly died, Frank took a week off, and then he quit his job, just like that. I suppose it was to be expected, but it was still a big blow to the company." She paused a moment, before asking, "Can you tell me why you are looking for Frank?"  
  
"I'm afraid not, Mrs Edwards," Steve replied. He thought of another question. "Was he computer-literate?"  
  
"Everyone at the company was," Mrs Edwards told him. "It was part of the job to be able to touch-type and use the Internet, and for Frank, the photographer, he should be able to use the scanner, digital camera, and editing programmes on the computer."  
  
Steve pondered this. Frank could have easily accessed the Internet and found out how to make a bomb.  
  
"He could use a camera," Steve said, "but was he a very mechanical person?"  
  
"I'm not sure," Mrs Edwards replied.  
  
"Don't worry," Steve told her. "Did you ever see him? Do you know what he looks like?"  
  
"Hold on," Mrs Edwards said. "I'll be right back." She headed out to the back of the house, and fetched a young woman of about twenty, or a little older. "Louise, this is Lieutenant Sloan."  
  
"Hi," Louise said. "What can I do for you?"  
  
"Can you describe Frank Huddersfield for me, please?"  
  
"Would a picture help?"  
  
"Help?" Steve asked in surprise. "Help doesn't cover it."  
  
Louise sprinted up the stairs, and returned a few moments later with three photographs.  
  
"Would you mind if I took these to the police station?" Steve asked.  
  
"Not at all, but would you know if I would get them back or not?" Louise asked. "They are in my portfolio. I'm training to be a photographer one day."  
  
"Okay, sure," Steve said. "You'll have them back tomorrow, when I see your father."  
  
"I'll be sure and phone you when he gets back," Mrs Edwards added.  
  
"Thank you, both of you," Steve said, heading to the door. "You have both been a great help. See you later."  
  
Steve decided that since it was now late, he had better go home instead of going to the police station first. He was not surprised to see his father's car in the driveway.  
  
"Hey, Dad," Steve called as he dropped his keys on the table in the hallway.  
  
"Hi," Mark called from the kitchen. "I'm in here. Want a coffee?"  
  
"Yeah, please," Steve replied, walking into the room. He was presented with a cup of coffee, and the father and son team sat down to talk.  
  
"What did you find out?" Mark began with the question.  
  
"Quite a lot, actually. I didn't find Huddersfield, but I found someone who can tell me where he is, sometime tomorrow." Steve explained the whole story of the events of the afternoon to his father.  
  
"Couldn't you find out the whereabouts of Frank Huddersfield from the company that he worked at?"  
  
"I've tried to do that, before I went to Frank's old house," Steve said. "Something about the company not being able to disclose the information. I couldn't understand that."  
  
"Never mind," Mark said. "At least this thing is finally going to be over soon."  
  
"Not soon enough for my liking," Steve said. "How are CJ and Jesse?"  
  
"CJ went home about an hour ago. He's doing pretty well. Jesse still hasn't woken up yet," Mark replied.  
  
"Is that normal?" Steve asked, slight surprise in his voice.  
  
"Well, yes," Mark answered. "He should be awake tomorrow, probably."  
  
"Good," Steve said. After a pause, Steve carefully asked, "if Jesse wakes up, differently, how different will he be?"  
  
"It's difficult to tell at this stage," Mark replied just as carefully. "But, it will take a lot of effort, if he is different, to help him and urge him to recover."  
  
"So there is a chance that he could recover?" Steve asked anxiously.  
  
"Again, we'll have to see the extent of the condition. It could be temporary, or not. But whether it is temporary or not, we need to give Jesse all the help and support that he needs."  
  
"I know," Steve said, hoping and praying that Jesse would be okay when he woke up.  
  
The next morning, Amanda wandered down the corridor of the hospital in a daze. She was going to spend the day with her sons, and take a step to helping them get over what had happened the previous day. They were waiting in the car, whilst Amanda checked on Jesse.  
  
"Why can't we come in, Mommy?" CJ had asked.  
  
"Jesse is not very well at the moment," Amanda had explained. "It won't do him a lot of good to have too many visitors. He might be asleep, anyway. I'm just going to look in on him to make sure he's doing okay. You two be good for me, understand?"  
  
Amanda loved her kids so much. It was an indescribable experience to be a parent. Yesterday, someone had almost taken away half of that from her.  
  
She stopped outside the door to Jesse's room. After taking a deep breath, she walked in.  
  
The amount of machines and wires that were attached to Jesse was the first thing that hit her. Did he really need all of them? Inside, Amanda knew that Jesse was relying on them.  
  
"Hey, Jesse," Amanda began, wondering if he could hear her at all. She decided that he probably couldn't, but she carried on regardless.  
  
"How's it going?" She swallowed. "Well, I'm here because I want you to get better, firstly. I'm also here because I have to give you the biggest thanks that I've had to give to almost anyone. You saved CJ's life yesterday. You saved my son's life. Now, I cannot even begin to describe how much I appreciate what you did yesterday. No words can even come close to how I feel. I am just so glad that you did what you did, and that you put your life behind everyone else's lives. And, you put CJ's life first."  
  
Amanda was now at the point of crying. She grasped Jesse's limp hand tightly. "You saved so many lives in there yesterday, you know. I don't know why this had to happen, but when it happened, you were great. I remember Dion saying something like, `Jesse was so cool out there!' I think that about sums it up. Thank you, Jesse. I am eternally in your debt."  
  
Amanda was about to replace Jesse's hand back at his side, when she felt that the hand was not so lifeless anymore. Jesse's hand squeezed Amanda's hand back.  
  
"Jesse?" Amanda enquired. She waited, hoping that Jesse's eyes would open. After a moment of being tense, Jesse's hand dropped back to being unresponsive again.  
  
"Maybe I wasn't just talking to myself," Amanda muttered as she left the chair. "I'll see you later. Meantime, get better, d'ya hear?" The door was shut quietly as Amanda left.  
  
Jesse could hear the muffled sound of the door shutting fill his head. He wanted to call out to Amanda, and let her know that he was there. The only thing he could do was grip her hand. 


	8. Ceasing the Blasts

Ceasing the Blasts  
  
Steve yawned and stretched. Morning, he thought to himself. Today was going to be hit or miss for Steve. Would he be able to get that guy from what Mr Edwards would tell him? Would Mr Edwards be able to tell him anything? Would it be too late? Would Huddersfield have moved on by then?  
  
So many questions filled Steve's mind as he got dressed, but only one persisted to be turned over and over in his mind. Would Jesse be okay?  
  
"Morning," Steve greeted his father as he came up the stairs of his apartment.  
  
"Morning," Mark replied. "Coffee?"  
  
"Hmm," Steve grunted in answer. "What time is it?"  
  
"A quarter to nine," Mark glanced at his watch.  
  
"I should be getting that call at around lunchtime," Steve told his father. "Are you going into work today?"  
  
"For this morning," Mark said. "But, I'll probably end up staying the whole day."  
  
"It wouldn't be the first time," Steve chuckled.  
  
Mark arrived at the hospital, and the first thing he did was to go in and check on Jesse. It was his priority at this time.  
  
He quietly opened the door to his friend's room. Jesse appeared to be asleep.  
  
Mark began by checking Jesse's chart, and monitoring the machines that surrounded Jesse. Then Mark took a look at the patient.  
  
At a first glance, Jesse appeared to be sleeping peacefully. But, on looking closer, Mark could see that Jesse was not as asleep as first thought.  
  
"Hey, Jesse?" Mark whispered softly. Mark could see Jesse's hands moving slightly, as if they were tensing, and trying to move. Jesse's face was also tensing, scrunching up slightly, as if he was trying to open his eyes.  
  
"Come on, Jesse, you can do this, you know you can do this," Mark urged him. "Come on, Jess. You're almost there. You can do it."  
  
The encouragement seemed to do the trick. Finally, Jesse's eyes opened.  
  
"That's it, Jesse!" Mark exclaimed, clapping his hands together.  
  
"Hi," Jesse said softly.  
  
"Hey, glad to have you back," Mark told him, sitting beside the bed. "How do you feel?"  
  
"Like I got hit by a truck or something," Jesse said slowly.  
  
"It is such a relief," Mark said.  
  
"What is? That I feel like I got hit by a truck or something?" Jesse asked.  
  
"No, no," Mark told him. "We thought you had brain damage or something."  
  
"Really?" Jesse asked in surprise. "Well, I feel okay, except for one thing."  
  
"What's that?" Mark asked, his face going slightly pale.  
  
"I can't see from here, but did you amputate one of my legs?"  
  
"No," Mark said slowly. "Why do you ask?"  
  
"I can't feel my right leg."  
  
Although this was not the best news Mark could have wanted to hear, he kept his cool. "You can feel everything else?"  
  
"Yeah. Just I can't feel my right leg. I know where everything else is, because it hurts and aches. Like, what happened here?" Jesse pointed to his chest.  
  
"Don't you remember?" Mark asked, concerned that Jesse might possibly have a form of amnesia.  
  
"I remember a big bang, and some fire, but it all went a bit blurry after that," Jesse explained.  
  
"A big bang," Mark mumbled, thinking that was putting it very mildly.  
  
"I remember some stuff after that, too," Jesse said. "Amanda came in and talked to me, not long ago."  
  
"Really?" Mark asked in surprise.  
  
"Yeah. It was all muffled what she was saying to me. I was trying to wake up but I couldn't. That is so frustrating."  
  
"Don't worry, Jess. You're alive and kicking now, and there is nothing to worry about."  
  
"Why exactly am I in this state?" Jesse asked, referring to his injuries. "I just remember a bang and fire. What the hell happened?"  
  
"Okay," Mark said, settled down on the chair. "Well, yesterday lunchtime. You, me, Steve, Amanda, Dion, and CJ were eating in BBQ Bob's. Then, Amanda's car alarm went off, turns out it was a young girl on roller-skates who had not yet learnt to stop. Anyway, Amanda, Dion, Steve and myself all went out there, and you and CJ remained inside."  
  
"Yeah, I remember some of that," Jesse said.  
  
"Then, we turned around and the blast from the side building went off," Mark said, finding it hard to tell such a bad story. "Amanda was very distraught, but a couple of minutes later, we saw CJ running out of the building with your Denim jacket over his head."  
  
Jesse nodded. "The blast happened, and I was thrown over the counter. CJ and I kinda landed in a heap on the floor. He seemed okay, so I guessed that the best thing would be to send him outside with my jacket over his head."  
  
"I don't think you can ever know how much Amanda appreciates what you did," Mark said. "I think she will be forever grateful."  
  
"I the same thing with a couple of other people," Jesse continued, "but then the doorway looked a bit decrepit so I stopped doing that."  
  
"Did you put everyone else under tables?" Mark asked.  
  
"Yeah," Jesse said. "The ceiling didn't look too good."  
  
"The ceiling collapsed, do you remember that?"  
  
Jesse had a pained look in his eyes. "I thought I was going to die," he said to himself. "I really did."  
  
"You did?" Mark asked. "But, you weren't so bad. A few broken ribs and concussion."  
  
Jesse lay silently in his bed. "Jesse?" Mark enquired. "Is there something you're not telling me?"  
  
"Hey, Mark, you know now that I'm awake, do you really think I need all these machines buzzing and beeping around me, huh?"  
  
"No, you're probably right," Mark replied. What was it that Jesse was hiding?  
  
"And, about my leg," Jesse continued. "When do I get to start physiotherapy?"  
  
"I think we ought to give you a couple more days for your ribs to get stronger," Mark said. "They were hit pretty hard, you know."  
  
"Yeah, I know," Jesse groan, feeling the pain. "And my head?"  
  
"A few cuts, grazes," Mark told him. "We were concerned that you might have problems when you woke up, but I guess you proved us wrong."  
  
"Guess I did," Jesse murmured. He closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep.  
  
Steve saw Mark leave Jesse's room, looking somewhat happier.  
  
"Is he awake?" Steve asked hopefully.  
  
"He was, but only for five or ten minutes," Mark said. "It was a struggle, and tiredness got the better of him in the end."  
  
"And, what about the complications?" Steve persisted.  
  
"The only thing is that he can't feel his right leg," Mark said.  
  
"Not at all? Why can't he feel it?" Steve asked.  
  
"It's probable that the nerves have been damaged in the leg," Mark said, "but sometimes there are questions that even the doctors can't answer."  
  
"Is there anything that can be done?" Steve asked him.  
  
"Well, we'll start with physiotherapy, and see if that will help it."  
  
"Was his leg actually broken?" Steve questioned.  
  
"No, it wasn't," Mark informed him. "That's what I find strange. It's a bit farfetched, but I think that a part of Jesse's brain was hit, the part that told him to use his right leg."  
  
"That does sound a bit, unbelievable," Steve retorted.  
  
"But, whatever happens, Jesse still needs his friends," Mark reminded his son. "And, by the way, weren't you supposed to be waiting for a call from Mr Edwards?"  
  
"I got that call," Steve said. "His wife was picking him up at the airport, and she said they'd be home in a little over half an hour. I decided to stop by to see Jess before I went to see them. I guess I better go and meet them."  
  
"Okay," Mark said. "Be careful."  
  
Steve rolled his eyes. "You said that yesterday."  
  
"Well it doesn't hurt to say it again," Mark chucked as he watched his son leave.  
  
"Why do you want to get this Huddersfield guy?" Mr Edwards enquired as he rummaged around in one of his desk drawers.  
  
Steve sighed. HE was the detective, not them! "You'll probably find out all about it tomorrow, if we get him. Until then, it's confidential."  
  
"All right," Mr Edwards said, picking up an envelope. "This is where his last address was." He wrote it on a piece of paper.  
  
"Thank you," Steve said, glancing at the paper. "You have been a huge help."  
  
"Just wish I knew what I helped you do," Mr Edwards said.  
  
"You will do soon, don't worry," Steve said. In actual fact, Steve did not want to be the one to tell the Edwards' that their daughter had been working with the Carolina Street bomber. He would let the tabloids do that.  
  
Steve and two other police officers trudged up to the apartment. He rapped on the door.  
  
"Frank Huddersfield," Steve barked. "Open up. This is the police."  
  
It sounded like someone had dropped something inside the apartment.  
  
"I'll give you to the count of three to open up," Steve hollered. "One! Two! Three!"  
  
At the third count, Steve kicked the door in, and pointed his gun at the man, who had one leg through the window.  
  
"Freeze! It's a big fall, Frank," Steve snarled. "Move slowly inside the window."  
  
Frank sighed, and took his foot from outside the window.  
  
"Frank Huddersfield, I am placing you under arrest..." Steve read the man his rights.  
  
After Steve got back into his car, he called his father.  
  
"We got him, Dad," Steve said. "We got the Carolina Street Bomber."  
  
"Am I glad to hear that," Mark sighed with relief. 


	9. An Ending

An Ending  
  
Almost a week later, Jesse was hobbling around the hospital on his crutches. He was beginning to get feeling back in his leg, but not quite enough to allow him to walk yet.  
  
"Mark, when can I go home?" Jesse pleaded with him, finding him in the Doctor's Lounge.  
  
"Jesse! What are you doing out of bed? You are a patient, remember?"  
  
"Yeah, Mark, I remember," Jesse said. "But I am a bored patient." He sat down at the table where Mark was.  
  
"I'll make you a deal," Mark told him. "Tomorrow is Saturday. You can leave the hospital, but only if you stay at the Beach House for a while. That way, you can relax, but still keep out of trouble."  
  
"Mark, that is the best thing I have heard all week," Jesse replied solemnly.  
  
So, the next day, Mark retrieved Jesse from the hospital at lunchtime, and drove him to his house.  
  
"Thanks for this, Mark," Jesse showed his appreciation as Mark unlocked the front door. "It has been a while since I got some peace and quiet, and..."  
  
Mark opened the door, and Jesse saw four bright faces smiling at him.  
  
"Surprise!" They all screamed, almost knocking Jesse off his crutches.  
  
"What?" Jesse asked in amazement. So much for peace and quiet, he thought to himself.  
  
"This is a little welcome home party we made for you," Mark told him.  
  
"You deserve it," Steve added.  
  
"I don't deserve it," Jesse told them, hobbling into the living room.  
  
"What makes you think that?" Mark asked.  
  
"We made you a cake," CJ told Jesse.  
  
"You did?" Jesse asked. "Well, that was really nice of you."  
  
Jesse tried his best to enjoy the party, but his heart wasn't in it. Later, when Amanda and her boys had gone home, Jesse tottered out to the balcony whilst Mark and Steve cleaned up.  
  
"What do you think is up with him?" Steve asked.  
  
"I'm not sure," Mark mused. "I don't think he likes being reminded of what happened last week, but I think there's more."  
  
"I'm going to talk to him," Steve said, dumping the plates on the counter.  
  
"Be careful," Mark said. This time, Mark was not referring to Steve's safety, for Steve to not hurt Jesse, physically or emotionally.  
  
"Hi," Steve said, standing next to Jesse, who was leaning on the railing of the deck for support.  
  
"Hey," Jesse replied, not taking his eyes off of the ocean.  
  
"Tell me something," Steve requested. "Why don't you think you deserved the party?"  
  
"All I did was something that any other guy would do," Jesse replied blandly, still not looking at Steve.  
  
"You reckon?" Steve asked him. "I know for a fact that a lot of people in your position put themselves first. You, on the other hand, put your life behind everyone else's, and you saved just about everyone in Bob's that day. That's special, you know. It's stuff like that that makes you a special person."  
  
Jesse merely shrugged his shoulders.  
  
"I think there's something else that's bugging you, isn't there," Steve considered.  
  
"And what would you know?" Jesse snapped, turning to look at Steve for the first time. Steve was taken aback. Jesse had never snapped at him before. Then, Steve noticed that Jesse had been crying.  
  
"Hey, buddy?" Steve tried to console his friend. "Can't you tell me what's up?"  
  
"You wouldn't understand," Jesse growled. "NO ONE understands."  
  
"Try me," Steve said shortly.  
  
"I wonder, have you got any notion, and idea at all what I have been through in the last couple of weeks?" Jesse put towards Steve. "Firstly, I was doing great, then my boss and one of my closest friends shouts at me for something I can't help doing. Sure, after a couple of days of depression, he gets over it. But then, last Saturday happens."  
  
"I know, Jess, it was hell for everyone," Steve assured him.  
  
"Like you'd know. Where you the one that could see yourself trapped under a truck load of rubble?" Jesse stopped as he heard the words he had said.  
  
Steve was stunned. "You had a near-death experience?"  
  
"Nice one, Sherlock," Jesse retorted.  
  
"What happened?" Steve asked him, putting a concerned hand on Jesse's shoulder. He shrugged the hand off.  
  
"Well, there was me, seeing the ground, and a pile of bricks on top of me. And then it started to go all fuzzy, but then you came in, I think, and you took the rocks off of me. Then, I can't remember." He turned to the taller man, next to him. "Steve, I thought I was going to die. I saw myself, under that weight, and I thought, `This is it.' I had visions of me being the next guy in Amanda's lab."  
  
At that moment, Jesse felt about two feet tall. He just realised that Steve had stopped him dying, because he had taken the rubble off of him. "Steve, I'm sorry," Jesse began, but Steve held his hand up.  
  
"You have got nothing to be sorry about," Steve told him firmly. "I understand. You were scared. I was pretty scared too, you know. I lifted that rock off your face, and I froze. I couldn't believe it was you under there."  
  
Jesse was beginning to turn pale, and he swayed slightly. "Whoa, not near the stairs," Steve said, grabbing his shoulders before he fell.  
  
"Too much cake?" Steve asked. Jesse nodded, grinning, and his best friend led him inside.  
  
~~ The End ~~ 


End file.
